“Where to?” he asked, powerless in his ignorance.
“Um, let me think. I oughtn’t tell now where we’ll be going when we’ve gotten back together, just in case. But Lilisaire’s right, we should start from within an hour or two’s hop of it. I’m not acquainted with the region either, but—C’mon, let’s go conduct a data sweep,”
Fernando directed them to the dome that held computer terminals. They were for general use, but nobody else was there at the moment. Aleka set up a search for communities in midcontinent that were relatively isolated and self-contained. Predictions of cloud cover for the next few days were another factor. Before long she had made her choice.
“Bramland. Not too nice a place, according to this, but by that token, not apt to be friendly to the police. We’ll flange up a plausible reason for you to give the locals, why you’ve flitted there to spend a while and why I’ll be joining you. I’ll put a chunk of cash in with those spare clothes and tilings I’ve promised you. Mainly, from now on keep your head down and your mouth shut. I know you can.” She caught his hand. “I know we can.”
Uncover what had been centuries hidden? Not for the first time—not for the first time—Kenmuir’s mind withdrew pastward, blindly casting about for whatever clues might lie buried in history. The view from the cafe’ terrace was glorious. High on its hillside, Domme—stones brooding over narrow streets through which once rang the hoofbeats of knightly horses—looked down at the valley, across woods and fields and homes, to crests afar and thelordly summer sky of Earth. From the western horizon the sun wrought shadows and luminances; the river flowed molten gold among trees whose crowns were green-gold. A breeze awoke in what warmth yet lingered. Traffic sounds rolled muted beneath quietness.
Dagny sipped of her wine, a fragrant Bordeaux, set the glass down, leaned back, let her eyes savor. She and Edmond had the place nearly to themselves, which deepened her content. “Beautiful,” she sighed. “How glad I am you chose this.”
Across the little table he drank likewise. When he lowered his own glass, she heard how it clicked against the tiles. “You would rather have gone somewhere else?” She heard, too, the trouble in his voice. “You did not say.”
She met his gaze and smiled. “I wanted the choice to be yours,” she answered, “and knew you’d most want to see your Dordogne again.”
“But it is your holiday also.”
“Well, you knew I’ve liked the area whenever we’ve visited.” A misleading way to speak, she thought. Their times on the planet had been so few., so brief, and he always ready to go along with her wishes. How often to southern France? Thrice, counting now. She wanted to say something about that, but something else was more important. “This trip I’ve come to love it.” She was being honest, though she understood how much of the reason lay in him, his joy that made her joyful. “Thank you.”
He smiled back, just a bit. They were silent a while. The sun went down. A flight of rooks crossed a heaven still blue.
Edmond stirred. “Dagny—”
She waited, expectant without urgency, in the manner she had learned was best. Quick with assertion, rage, laughter, he could have difficulty uttering what lay him closest.
“I have meant to say this,” he went on after a few seconds, “but I was not sure how. I am not. But I should try.”
“Your tries generally work out fine, mon vieux,” she told him.
He struggled. “I am going soon to space because of you.” Hastily: “I mean, thanks to you.”
A disclaimer might ease things for him. “Really, you owe a lot more to Lars and Brandir.”
“They did well, and I appreciate it,” he said, “but you made their efforts possible. You—pulled the wires, cleared the path.” He forced a chuckle. “Can you today help me with my metaphors?”
She wondered what he was leading up to. He’d acknowledged her role often before. Memory flitted back across those past months. Governor Zhao, yes, he’d been the main opponent, issuing his decree that forbade the expedition, insisting that this was the law and exemption must be gotten from the High Council of the World Federation, knowing full well how easily that could be choked in committee. A problem of hers was that she continued to like the old bastard and .believe he meant well. She thought he was more than half sincere about the hazards that might arise1 if Lunarians took to space in any numbers. As for the rest of his motivation, he’d told her that there was enough nationalism, dangerous enough, on Earth, without allowing anything that might encourage the tumor to grow on the Moon. Maybe he had a point. Besides, he and she usually ended their private talks with his playing some music for the sake of their spirits, and it was through him that she had come to Beethoven’s last quartets … Occasionally she must needs fight him.